Heidi smiled for the first time in months, and I was afraid that it wouldn’t last. A woman at the next table asked to see the chef. Heidi moved a hand through her thinning hair, watching as the waiter went into the kitchen. Then she looked down at the food on her plate.
‘Sweetheart,’ I said. ‘Go ahead and eat.’
She shook her head, put down her knife and fork.
‘You were telling me about that dress in the catalogue, what colour was it again?’
Heidi didn’t answer. Instead she sat sideways, her back to the woman who was attending to her sharp red nails when the chef arrived, wiping his hands down the front of his striped apron.
Heidi was becoming uncomfortable, I could hardly stand it.
‘Sweetheart, please, for me.’
‘Is there a problem, Madam?’ asked the chef.
I touched Heidi’s knee under the table. A young couple on the far side of the restaurant enjoyed a view overlooking the beach. We never got to sit next to a window anymore.
‘Now see, the reason I asked to speak with you,’ said the woman, ‘is this fish pie.’
The chef looked at the empty plate she pushed toward him.
‘Sure, okay,’ said the chef.
The woman picked up her fork, scraped it through the white sauce on her plate. ‘The smoked haddock. The salmon. There was hardly any. Am I right or am I wrong?’
Leaning over, the chef took her fork, to pick at what little remained. ‘All the fish has been finely sliced. There was ample haddock and salmon in the recipe.’
The walls were crowded with photographs of fishing boats. Heidi anxiously studied each one.
‘Sounds to me like you have no idea how to prepare a fish pie. The haddock must have been sliced thinner than the lady sitting here.’
She motioned to Heidi. I kept my hand on her knee, wondering what was happening outside the couple’s window.
The chef looked at Heidi and grunted. ‘Can we offer you a coffee by way of apology?’
Heidi bit down on her bottom lip. It made me shiver when she did this. I was sure I heard the skin split beneath the teeth. I forced myself to try and finish my meal.
Heidi looked at the gold bracelet I had given to her. I should have taken her straight back to the cottage. But I wanted us to try.
The waiter brought over the woman’s complimentary coffee and stopped at the edge of our table, asking if everything was satisfactory.
‘It’s all fine,’ I said. ‘Really, just fine.’
A family of four arrived and were seated behind Heidi. A teenage boy and girl sat with their phones while their parents held hands and read the menu to each other.
‘I need the bathroom,’ said Heidi.
I stood up and made some room. She touched my arm as she passed and for a moment I found it hard to breathe.
‘I love you,’ I told her.
The mother from the family glanced at me and smiled. I picked up my glass, the ice cubes knocked against my teeth, the cold water felt good in my throat.
Author bio:
Lee Wright is a writer of fiction and non-fiction. His short stories have been published by numerous on-line publishers and his non-fiction has been published by Headstuff.org and the University of Leicester’s Everybody’s Reviewing website. He is currently taking an MA in Creative Writing at the University of Leicester.
Photo by Lim changwon on Unsplash
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